Category Archives: 0506

new art

I love libraries, although I’m not sure I like the bureaucracy of one. Heck, the bureaucracy of anything, red tape built into the meaning. But reading, jeez. I can’t imagine a world without books or at least blogs, ha.

It’s getting harder for Wheeler to change out of what she is. It’s good she’s a faux fashion designer and/or model now, based on Long Islands. Which led her here thanks to Spider.

Gatsby again here on the “Lay Reading Bench Purple” in the tower set up by a fellow artist who has a smaller property in Scroop.

Fantastic.

But *this* (bottom of tower).

Compare.

My guess is that Spider wants us to find his former master, perhaps his present master. A witch has a cat. A wizard usually goes with a dog, sometimes with weird names to help disguise its true form.

“Carrcassonnee,” Wheeler calls over cautiously.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0034, 0506, AF Subcontinent, Paper Soap, Sansara, Soap

another small toy influx to Aloha (Aloha?)… and more

A new Red — or is it the same as the old Red — offers Grassy Noll a tempting present (*the* present?) to lure him back across the tracks and into the village proper. If only he could get his dad gum car turned around (wrestle, tussle).

Cpt. Americus at a junction is saying, “Peace for all. Today is a special day. Make up. Rejoin the flock that is your tribe, Grassy Fitzgerald Noll.” When Americus uses the middle names, you know he’s totally serial about something. Special day it is. He’s all about beginnings, middles, ends. Because the latter is coming and he well knows it. “Celebrate while we can!” he could also say this day in a month beyond May. “Soon there will be no crossing the line, crossing the tracks. We will be where we’re suppose to be in time and that is that.”


More drama on my Mt. Tom. Apparently this camp site was burned badly enough to be evacuated. A rug appears to have caught on fire. Whether accident or on purpose is a larger question. Are there nefarious agents working on this high hill on the edge of the town I live in, maybe the actual owners of the land? Because this site is well across the line from legal into illegal. “No trespassing!” the perpetrator might have shouted as the flames did their dastardly deed.


Another camp site further down the same ridge with rather elaborate stone work. Suspiciously so, perhaps. Rock can’t be burned, you’ll note.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0033, 0506, Blue Mountain, City Park

Queen

He continues to talk to his boss even though he isn’t with him any more.

“That boat over there in that bay, Jeffrey,” speaks Man About Time mildly. “Lower Austra. But just beyond, just beyond the bay: Wild West. That’s how they slipped away from Miss Ouri, Jeffrey. They outsmarted her, which is difficult to do. Someone must know the whole map to do this. It’s like they have the entire knowledge of Nautilus itself.”

“Think,” he could hear Jeffrey Phillips in his head now, which he often does.

“That’s right, Jeffrey. (The) Thinktank (sim) is just beyond the bay. The Wild West.”

“No. *Think*.” Jeffrey often emphasized words for Man About Time in his head because he misunderstands what he’s actually trying to convey. Because Jeffrey Phillips is still around, just not physically.

“Oh okay. Think, huh?”

“Think,” he finished.

—–

“We went out on the same date. March 1, 2022. Yet he was a King and I was a Bishop at best, a Knight.”

“9 to 5, yes,” stated Wheeler Wilson to Baker Bloch at The Table, which had moved from the Blue Feather up to the Castle in De Skies, although not out of Collagesity itself. It was a conundrum because (the castle) sat in 2 completely different places on the continent at once: Lower Austra’s Collagesity and North’s Rooster’s Peninsula, with the ultimate link being glowing MOA down in the basement of each. *They* sat in these 2 positions. “I think you underestimate *your* position, though,” she continued. “Rook… you were a rook; a minor rook but a rook still. And people around you didn’t like it because you had no ambition to further your place in life. You were happy as is, just riding everything out until The End. You were stuck on a 5 which was much closer to 5 than 6 and you were satisfied. That was the basic issue. That caused the distancing.”

“I started out as a Pawn.”

“We all do,” explained Wheeler. “We all do.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0032, 0506, Crisp Sea, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Wild West

Monroe 04

“Alright we’re just passing Ray Ray Ray on our left, which has taken over Monroe. The Pointer (he points). It must be around here somewhere (he follows the point). There!”

“Well park the car!” Marty demanded to Roger. “Let’s get out.”

“10-4,” Roger said, rogering that, and pulled into the next available space on the town square.

Stepping up on the curb in approaching the stone, Roger saw something different, something he couldn’t explain. Marty couldn’t see it from his angle, and there was a reason for that. Absorption.

He came closer, still barely believing his eyes. “Marty, come quick! Your name! The rock –” sputtered Roger, ” — has *your* name on it. Marty?”

Roger searched in every direction from his position at the SW corner of town square. But Marty was nowhere to be found. One Strange Rock indeed.

 

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0031, 0506, Iowa

00300506

He visited an art gallery to see how much he could sell his works for in Our Second Lyfe. He was encouraged(!).

Hmm…

… sensing another pattern.

The owner requested, “no photos,” on a sign at the entrance but I figured that was of individual pieces. A mere boy tries to “fish” paintings illegally through the upstairs ceiling, probably being short on cash or perhaps for black market purposes. Greg Ogden makes a note that things like this can happen but doesn’t report the young fellow. He’s potentially doing something illegal as well snapping these photos. Let hot water stand.

He looked and looked but couldn’t find the art work that a fiend of a friend indicated was here: a copy of Ansel Adams’ famous black and white photograph from the 20’s called “Monolith…”. He knew that people — some people — stupid ones — would think that he was piggybacking on the fame of an established artist, despite the fact that Adams worked in a different discipline. Plus this was another Whippe sim, like the one he’d just left in Section 04 back there with its Black Lake, etc. How’d *that* occur? Must be yet another indicator that he was on the right track to come here, check out prices, capture (on film) the red dressed lady and the fox, see the boy fishing for valuable paintings through the ceiling, and lastly, lastly, Adams. Where was he? The photograph could hold the answers to everything.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0030, 0506, Hana Lei^^

A more proper, grown-up way of saying it…

… as in weedy grown-up. But I’m lichen it! More soon.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0029, 0506, Blue Mountain

Ms. Green

Astronaut AB drops by V-Gate (also known as Valgate) to say hello to a fellow “Rimmie” she remotely spotted sitting on an oppositely colored couch. We’ll catch up with her continuing story soon. For now we know she still desires to be the first person on Mars, man or wo-man. Good for her! But she needs to know about the dangers posed by the Boos there, black and white. She needs to understand *opposites* better, shadows. But she’s on her way; I’m not too worried about the sharp young gal.

That picture on the screen behind her reminds me we should get back to Supergal Ruby and her interactions with Greg Ogden with that extra G in his last name. Probably in Paper-Soap I would think. We must return.

And I forgot Astronaut AB was there too before checking, in disguise as grieving Jenny Powers whose husband just died, the vet of town every other week or so, the weeks that she’s not. Now it’s a full time job thanks to her loss.

—–

He came in on a fast train bound from some place called Boner, North Carolina. Or so he thought.

Because: Boos again.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0028, 0506, Nautilus, Paper Soap, Rim Isles, Soap

around the corner…

—–

He recognized her immediately upon entering his pizza parlor, despite the black and white checkerboard makeup. Wheeler. She, of course, knew him as well. Knew he was *dead*: killed by a monster way back in VHC City in the olden days, before the coming of Mud and the parallel need for Soap. He took off his crown. He dared to sit down, confront her.

—–

“H-how?” she uttered about his resurrection. I mean, she’d seen enough of them in the meanwhile but still — a bit of shock. He was stone cold dead laying on the floor when she found him. Heart attack. Couldn’t reach the pills in time. Surprise crocogator appearance through a thought-of solid wall did him in. They’d walked through the Fate Gate together, even, she escorting him to the afterlife. This is what he told her; she wasn’t physically there at the time; left when she found the body; alerted the authorities; cried her eyes out way into the night, The Musician, her other boyfriend at the time, seething on the other side of the bed, green with jealousy. She loved *him* more than *me*, he thought, although she was still with him, didn’t run wee wee wee all the way back to Collagesity like a broken piggie, even though she had supreme power there and not in VHC City. And now — The Musician was long back in the rear mirror, yielding to Axis and Opp both, take your pick. And now her new husband, she as Wendy Wilson Wheeler that is. Not really Wheeler any longer. All the old avatars had packed it up and moved to the White Palace, as Hucka Doobie liked to put it. But really: storage. Old yields to new. Continually.

“Jeffrey — Phillips?” Old Man Allen Martin, the resurrected one, didn’t like the sound of it. Then again, he wouldn’t like the sound of any of Wheeler’s lovers past himself. “How many down the road from me (and The Musician)?”

“4 — something like that. It’s complicated.”

“I bet it is.” He blew out air. “Well, yeah, I *died*. But then Soap cleaned me up, wiped away all the grime of a dirty grave. Plenty of Suds and Bubbles did the trick.”

“They *are* uplifting,” opined Wheeler, having caught the vaunted dancing troupe’s act in Collagesity 02 not long ago, Peter Ladd on his soapbox between them. The contrast of talent almost balanced out to mediocre but not quite. Skippy Bittman.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0506, Paper Soap, Soap

00250506

Gotta keep my eyes peeled like a banana, thinks Officer Spotty John, back on the beat. Crime everywhere in this town these days. Why it’s becoming as bad as, say, that Collagesity down in Lower Austra I’ve been reading about in the local toilet. Nautilus (continent) is being overrun by animals!

Officer Davis Jefferson was asking the local hookers in a nearby alley if they’d seen any illegal activities lately while working their own beat. “Nothing,” came the answer from Shelley Poplolly, a member of the City Gang and thus friendly with the police. “Something,” deviated Nancy Pantsy further down the wall, a Country Girl and thus not obliging to the local law. She was being paid by the Black Lake Bunch to get them off their tail.

“Weeeellll?” exuded Davis, tapping his foot in anticipation.

“Ketchup,” she said.

“Whaaatt?”

“Ketchup stains… all over the body. Then mustard came along and squirted him real good too. He was a true hot dog then and fit to be roasted, er, roosted, in that a pigeon came down and then roosted on his buns. He was done.”

“What’s alllll this with pig-e-ons, for crimeny’s sake?” Officer Davis Jefferson, formerly a busty barmaid of the Irish Resistance Movement out on loan for the moment, scratched his head with this. “So we’re looking for two squirts…”

“Squirters,” corrected Nancy Pantsy quickly, not wanting him to get too close to the truth.

“I’m going to call them squirts because that’s what they appear to be. You are how you act. Am I right. Ammm I riiiiiight?”

“Yes Officer Davis Jefferson,” dutifully recites Shelley Poplolly, a Loyalist.

“Yeah, what-ever,” recites Nancy Pantsy, a Dissentist, but then realizes her slip-up as he glares. “I mean, yes Officer Davis Jefferson.”

“Thatttt’s betterrr. Now: tell me more about this… doggg.”

(to be continued?)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0506, Nautilus, North, Slaashsides

aloha

“Okay, so let’s see what this is all *aboot*, he he.” He enters.

Little Stevie Wonderful offered to play RN Griselda a tune he just wrote to comfort her on the sight. And sound. And smell.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0025, 0506, Pickleland